


Décor

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Nipple Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8785309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Cormac finds Colin well modified for fun.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: My entry for November’s Daily Deviant. This isn’t properly British.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.

He often comes home to a treat—Colin on all fours in just a dog collar, Colin dusting the stairway in a too-short maid’s uniform, Colin cooking dinner in just an apron—but it’s usually set up right, with his ever-eager boyfriend big-eyed and rosy-cheeked.

Tonight, Cormac kicks off his shoes alone, distinctly aware of the lack of dinner aroma. They’ll be ordering in, then—Cormac never cooks. He shrugs out of his robes, back down to slacks and a sweater, and pads into the living room to find still-sort-of-a-treat: Colin perched shirtless on the couch. 

Colin looks up at Cormac, a scandalized look on his fair features, his hands clutched protectively over his breast like he was just playing with it and is now trying to look decent. He looks sinful and scrumptious. Cormac doesn’t bother stifling the smirk that conjures, and he stalks straight for the couch like a cat ready to pounce. Colin bites his bottom lip, worrying it in his teeth, but he shuffles obediently over when Cormac takes the cushion right beside him. Cormac’s legs land practically atop his. Cormac grabs Colin’s thin wrists and wrenches them away, delighted to find what he’d hoped for: two little metal hoops pierced through Colin’s pink nipples. The buds are hard and flushed, like they’ve just been teased, and Cormac’s grin grows by the second. He breathes, “You really did it...”

“You said you really wanted me to, so...” Colin mumbles, only to trail off: that’s enough of a reason. Cormac knows Colin would do anything for him. And they both know that Cormac’s the professional model, Colin usually on the other side of the camera, and it’s a rare treat for _Colin’s_ looks to be the center of attention. They’re worth it. He’s too cute for words sometimes and ridiculously hot like this, when he’s tripping over himself to be _good_ for Cormac. Cormac keeps hold of his wrists and pulls him closer, rewarding him with a languid kiss that makes Colin shiver and moan. 

But Cormac has to pull away sooner than usual, because he needs time to just _stare_ at Colin’s chest. The metal gleams slickly, and the dark hue adds striking contrast to Colin’s creamy skin. 

Cormac checks, “They’re not the Muggle ones, right? You went to that wizard shop we talked about?”

“Yes,” Colin nods, before squirming and admitting, “I did think it would be a lot scarier, but they used a spell, not a needle...”

“You should’ve waited for me. I would’ve come with you.” And held his hand. And fucked him in the bathroom there both before and after. But maybe Colin knows that, and maybe that’s why he went alone—so his poor nipples would get a break before being thoroughly used right after. Cormac’s proud of himself for holding back now long enough to talk. 

Colin shrugs sheepishly and says, “I wanted it to be a surprise... but then they were too sore to put my shirt on...” He looks down and bites his bottom lip again, and Cormac has to fight the urge to grab one of the rings in his teeth and jerk Colin forward by it. Colin asks with a tentative smile, “...You really like them?”

Cormac smirks and answers with a messy kiss—he grabs Colin by the hair for it in lieu of where he wants. Colin makes a startled, muffled yelp against him and quickly parts his lips to let in Cormac’s tongue; Cormac eats him up. The harder Cormac kisses, the more Colin yields, until Cormac’s pressing him back against the couch cushions—he finally falls, his thighs spreading open to accommodate Cormac crawling forward, and Cormac bears over him at full force, grinding down into his pliant body and delighting in the firm hoops that dig in. When Cormac needs to talk, he drags his teeth down Colin’s lips to nip at his jaw and suck at his neck, then checks, “Are they still sore?”

Colin makes a whining noise as Cormac bites his collarbone, then breathlessly answers, “No, ah— they... they gave me a potion...” And it’s a good thing that’s the answer, because Cormac’s already slithered his way down Colin’s body, and he runs his tongue in a warning circle around Colin’s right nipple. When Cormac goes in for the target, tongue dragging hard up the tender slope to lap at the prize in the center, Colin keens and arches up into his mouth. 

Cormac savours the moment for as long as he can. He traces around the flat hoop, then pokes it up and curls his tongue enough to fit the tip inside, and he gives it a little tug, just enough to make Colin whine again and writhe beneath him. Colin’s fingers thread into Cormac’s hair, Cormac’s hands clutching possessively to Colin’s hips. He sucks the ring and perked bud into his mouth and gives Colin’s breast the royal treatment—Colin gets louder and lewder with every trick he spares. 

By the time Cormac’s licking his way over to the left nipple, he’s hard as a rock and needs to divert one hand to palm himself through his trousers. It’s not just that Colin looks _damn pretty_ in extra jewelry, it’s that he did it just for _Cormac_. And Cormac can use these: he can hang a little chain between them and use it like a leash. He can hook them up to one of Colin’s collars and keep his chest arched forward, his body contorted for Cormac’s pleasure. Cormac already knows he’s going to tease Colin’s nipples relentlessly now, twice as much as he used to, three times as much, whether Colin’s wearing a shirt or not, and maybe he’ll make Colin get other piercings too—anything that reads as _property of Cormac McLaggen_ to anyone who knows them. 

Colin whimpers pathetically when Cormac lets go and sits up—that’s one of Cormac’s favourite noises. He lays a hand on Colin’s chest to hold Colin down and uses the other to pop open his fly. As soon as Cormac’s got his dick out, Colin lights up like the sun, like he always does, whenever Cormac ordains to play with him. It never gets old. Colin was built to worship and Cormac was built to be worshipped, but this is one of those uncommon circumstances where Colin’s body is the one on display. Cormac doesn’t even bother with the rest of his clothes, just smears his precum across Colin’s stomach and climbs over Colin’s legs to rub at his chest. Colin instantly reaches for it, but Cormac grabs his wrist and rearranges him instead—tries to make him press his flat breasts together. It’s not much, but there’s enough of a crease for Cormac to rut into, and the sight alone is worth it. Cormac mostly ruts into the middle at first, but then he strays to drag the peaking head around each nipple, and Colin moans wantonly and thrusts up for it. Cormac chuckles and rewards him with a light slap.

Every time Cormac marks another part of Colin’s body—which is often—he winds up, sooner or later, putting his dick in Colin’s face. He tries to hold back this time, because the rings are what’s new and what he wants to focus on, but Colin’s so beautiful when he’s flushed and dilated, heavy-lidded, breathing hard. Cormac can’t resist tapping each of Colin’s cheeks and grinding into his lips—Colin opens instantly, always ready to take Cormac down his throat—but then Cormac moves back again and resumes humping Colin’s nipples in turn. He keeps his own hand at the base, but when he thinks he’s getting close, he grunts, “Jerk me off, babe,” and Colin hurries to listen. He wraps his delicate fingers around Cormac’s thick girth and pumps hard and quick, just the way Cormac likes. 

Cormac comes with a feral hiss and his hands clawing in Colin’s chest—there’ll be bruises tomorrow, but Cormac will love the sight of them and spell them away when company’s over. He sprays across Colin’s blushing skin, all up his neck and onto his face, his eyes scrunching shut but his mouth open. Cormac ruts out a few extra jets, but when it’s over, Colin bends forward to try and lick the tip. Cormac shifts closer to help, so Colin can lock his lips around the head and happily suckle at it. 

Colin’s also hard. Cormac knows that. Colin’s more a voyeur than anything, but flipping the script still gets him off. Cormac takes a few seconds anyway just to ride out his own orgasm. The afterglow is a foggy, delightful mess that he always likes to savour. 

But he is a good boyfriend. He crawls back afterwards, back into the v of Colin’s legs, and hikes Colin up into his lap with a short tug and Colin’s surprised squeak. He means to finger Colin’s hole, even though he’ll need a bit of come-down time and his wand before he can use it right away, but then he rethinks what he wants and decides, “We should take some pictures now, while they’re fresh.”

Instead of disappointment over having to wait, Colin grins wide. He loves that damn camera. This time, Cormac will be the one behind it. He grins back and slaps Colin’s rear, ordering, “Fetch it, babe—let’s mark the occasion right.”

Colin giggles but scrambles off the couch and hurries to obey.


End file.
